


Feels Like Coming Home

by thelittlelioness



Series: Sweet Dreams [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Child Abuse, Gen, Hogwarts AU, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 07:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlelioness/pseuds/thelittlelioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>An imperfectly-shaped piece of Gansey was left behind there in muggle London, and in its place this magical alley leapt into his heart, flawlessly fitting beneath his ribs like it was meant to be there all along.</i><br/> <br/>~</p><p>The magic hits the summer they turn eleven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. DISCOVERY

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Feels Like Coming Home" by Jetta
> 
> There will be a sequel to this, set in their sixth year at Hogwarts. No spoilers or anything, but I'm itching to 1) write some mutual pining and 2) have Kavinsky fuck shit up. Should be fun!
> 
> Update 10/5: I had been hoping to have the sequel finished before the school year started, but that has clearly not happened. I haven't had much time to work on it; we're in midterms and I've only made marginal progress since the summer ended. It ~will~ be finished and posted, but I just don't know when. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr! @neon-nocte

Richard Campbell Gansey III was an interesting young boy. Wealth. Privilege. Tragedy. Trauma. But somehow that silly little notebook came in handy more than the therapist. And he read quite a lot, but that did not mean he was bookish, antisocial. He was… something else entirely. Determined to find the answer to his extenuating circumstances, he researched quite a bit for someone his age, and what he came up with was extraordinary.

With the world at his fingertips, he wouldn’t let a day of this summer go by without making it something magical. He stuck his epi-pen into a bag with his journal and _Glendower and other Welsh Stories_ and set off to find… anything. He would find the magic that saved his life, and he would sacrifice what was needed to make his gratitude known.

London, his family’s new temporary home, was entrancing, but he wasn’t looking for old architecture and flashy lights. Gansey rode his bicycle the other direction, searching for hills or ferns or old-growth forests. He wanted green. The journal pulsed like a rapid heartbeat from within the bag in the basket, and Gansey remembered the leaves stuck in his hair after he died, brown and crunchy. He wanted green.

Eventually, his legs were not able to keep up with his mind, so he stopped by a convenience store to grab a soda. He paid for his Fanta with cash and told his cashier to keep the change.

Gansey wheeled his bike to the park across the street then lowered it to the grass and sat down before a large tree. The overgrown grasses and low-hanging branches were inviting in a way more comfortable than Gansey would have thought; the tree seemed to be calling out to him in a language he could only feel, not decipher.

Gansey opened up _Glendower and other Welsh Stories_ as if it were his first time doing so, found his place, and cracked the spine. He read and read and read, and he was just finishing the section on Gwenllian, Glendower’s daughter, when a flash of dirty blond grabbed his attention. It was a boy, his age, who was sitting by his own respective tree, reading a book, bicycle by his side. His position was so uncannily similar to Gansey’s that Gansey immediately became curious. Gansey, with the natural naiveté of any boy his age, discarded his belongings to investigate.

Now that Gansey was up close, he could see the boy’s book was _A Wrinkle in Time._ Not as interesting or important as a tome about a not-fictional and possibly not-dead Welsh king, but Gansey had read _A Wrinkle In Time,_ and its eccentricity and fantasy spoke much about this boy. Gansey approved.

He introduced himself, and the boy followed suit. Adam. Adam Parrish. It felt right. Adam seemed surprised by Gansey’s accent — or rather, lack thereof — so Gansey began to tell him about some of his travels. Adam had never been outside of the U.K., evidently, so he hungrily absorbed the stories. It was like they were best friends already, which should have been impossible, but Gansey had experienced more impossible things.

“Where will you go to school? This autumn?” Adam asked, hoping despite himself he could keep this friendship.

“I’ve never really attended one school for a long time.” Adam nodded, recalling Peru and America and Italy and all the places in between. Gansey continued, “So I don’t know. My parents and I are supposed to sit down and talk about it like adults soon. Family meeting.”

“They don’t seem like they would send you to the local public school,” Adam replied, wrinkling his nose.

“No,” Gansey agreed. “They think the money is worth it for the most prestigious school within driving distance.”

Adam was silent for some time, then he asked Gansey about his book. Without missing a beat, Gansey said, “Adam, how much do you know about Welsh kings?”

~

That’s how the first few weeks of Gansey’s summer unfolded: he and Adam would sit at the park all afternoon, reading and eating the organic snacks Mrs. Gansey packed for them. Adam was still in school for a few more weeks, but the grade five exams at Adam’s school were not intensive, so he had plenty of time after school to hang out. Helen, Gansey’s older sister, warned him not to get close to anyone before he knew where he’d be attending school in the fall, but she was always getting off on annoying her brother, so he considered it a moot point.

Gansey’s parents, important political figures, were busy enough as is, so Gansey was allowed to roam, as long as he was clear and honest about where he was headed. He’d been instructed to keep his flip phone on him at all times. “This is for emergencies,” his father told him. “Until you are older.” Gansey had explained all of this to Adam, but he did not know why _Adam_ was always out of the house. Surely he would want to spend time with his family after so many hours each day in a classroom. But Gansey did not press the matter.

Once, Gansey had asked if they could hang out at Adam’s house. He thought Adam wouldn’t like his family, who must’ve seemed alien to anyone unfamiliar with politicians, so he didn’t offer up the newest Gansey residency for a play date. But Adam had just avoided the question. He didn’t get along with his parents, but that was as much as he would say. So Gansey kept meeting him at the park, the halfway point between their homes.

On Gansey’s birthday, Adam brought him a supermarket cupcake to celebrate. Gansey didn’t remember telling Adam when his birthday was, so he was impressed. He ripped the cake apart, splitting the two ones that made up the eleven, and gave Adam half.

“But my birthday isn’t until July 3rd.”

Gansey just pushed the cupcake towards him even further, nodding reassuringly. Reluctantly, as if this were an indulgence unacceptable by his standards, Adam accepted it. The next day was Adam’s graduation from primary school, so they toasted their cupcake halves in honor of new beginnings and the full summer that awaited.

They stayed at the park until half an hour before sundown, when they both needed to head home. Gansey couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face as he cycled down the suburban streets towards London. When he arrived home, Helen met him in the garage as he stowed away his bike.

“You’re in big trouble, you know,” she warned around a mouthful of gum. “I don't know what kind of prank you think you're pulling, but it isn't funny.” She accentuated her statement with a big pink bubble that broke open with a loud _pop_.

Gansey just rolled his eyes and walked right past her. Whatever she was going on about, she couldn’t be trusted to tell the story like it was.

“Richard? Is that you?” Mrs. Gansey called from across the house. He followed his mother’s voice into the kitchen, and Helen followed him.

“How is Adam?”

“Doing well. He brought me a cupcake today.”

“That's very sweet of him.”

“Are we ever gonna meet this boyfriend of yours?” Helen taunted, raising an eyebrow.

Gansey ignored her.

“You know what, you should invite him to dinner. We’d love to have him.” His mom put on a winning smile, a similar but dimmed version of the one she’d once used to win over constituents during her time in the British Parliament. “Now —” She smoothed her shirt, a lavender button down. “Helen, why don’t you go work on your university applications.”

“Whatever.” She blew another bubble with her gum as she left the kitchen. Gansey remembered Helen talking over the phone to her friends about university deadlines, so he didn’t think applications were available until early fall, but he didn’t say so. Helen was probably grateful for the excuse to plan another party with her gorgeous Romanian friends who were visiting for the summer.

Once Helen was out of earshot, Mrs. Gansey produced a thick envelope from the stack of mail on the kitchen table. “Now, Richard. Why don’t you sit down?” He did so. “We’ve got dinner reservations in an hour, so I’ll have to make this quick. You’ve been granted admission into a wonderful institution for the fall term.” She handed the envelope to him.

“I didn’t apply anywh—” But his curiosity was piqued. He looked at the envelope, blank except for his full name on one side and a strange crest on the other. No return address or anything. Inside were a couple different bits of parchment. Not copy paper, or high-end stationery. Parchment. It felt rough against his fingers.

The smaller paper was a letter from someone named Minerva McGonagall, headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He thought it was a joke, but he read the letter, read it twice through.

Gansey looked at his mom. She sighed.

“I never thought… When I was in Parliament, years ago, the European wizarding community was at war. The magical government in the U.K. — they call themselves the Ministry of Magic — was in communication with our government. That included me.”

Gansey just stared at her, working it out in his mind. She continued. “They call nonmagical people, like your father and I and Helen, muggles. It’s colloquial. There a few different types of wizards and witches. Pureblood — that’s when both parents are wizards. Half-blood is when one parent is a wizard and one is a muggle. Then there is Muggleborn, like you."

Gansey wanted to say there was nothing magical about himself. But if that was true, how did he survive his own death?

“How long have you known?”

“Twelve hours.” His mother looked up at the letter in his hands. “The magical community does a rather poor job of informing young Muggleborns of their powers. Hogwarts — silly name, I know — is the only wizarding academy in the U.K. I’ve seen photographs, from my political briefings, and it’s beautiful there, a castle. Schooling begins at age eleven and continues for seven years. I didn’t know until the letter came in the post this morning.”

Gansey laid the second piece of parchment on the table. It was a list, long and detailed, of his school supplies. “Where am I even supposed to _get_ a wand?”

“I know of a place. There should be instructions on how to get there at the bottom of the page.” Gansey looked, and sure enough, she was correct. “Listen, Richard, why don’t you go upstairs and think this over?” From underneath a some other papers on the table, she produced a file folder. “Read through this, if you want. It’s got loads of information on wizards, basics they taught us in briefings. I’ll call you down when we need to leave.”

Disoriented, Gansey shuffled up to his room. His head was buzzing around, and his heart hurt — it was the same feeling he got when researching Glendower. He didn’t know how something so bizarre and lovely could be real, but even more than that, he didn’t know how something that felt this true could be false.

~

“Do you believe in magic?” Gansey asked Adam the next day.

“Well, no,” Adam answered. It wasn’t the answer Gansey had been looking for, but then again, he supposed Adam didn’t really have a reason to think magic was real. His life was nothing more than average, though Gansey felt guilty thinking it.

Gansey bit his bottom lip. If he were bound by logic instead of instinct, maybe he wouldn’t believe it himself. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Something stranger than Glendower?”

Gansey nodded, his expression serious. “You asked me where I’m going to school in the fall.” Adam just held his gaze, waiting. “I’m attending a magic school.”

Now Adam looked at him quizzically, but he had taken the Glendower thing well, so maybe he would with this too. Gansey reached into his bag and brandished the envelope and watched as Adam read through the acceptance letter and the supply list.

Gansey had been unsure what Adam would say — he was still unsure how _he_ should be reacting — but Adam just placed the parchment on the ground and said,  stubbornly, “prove it.”

“Well, I don’t know how to use magic yet. I’d need a wand.”

“If magic exists I don’t think you would need a wand for it. Can’t you just think about something happening and let it happen?”

“Well, I guess I’ll learn how it works at school.” And so Gansey brought out the file folder he never returned to his mother, and they spent the better part of the day going through it once, twice, learning all they could about this mysterious world. Adam soon dropped his skepticism, and it became a part of their life, just like Glendower.

“If there was a war, there must be hundreds and thousands of other people like me,” Gansey said towards the end of the day. He glanced at Adam, suddenly overcome with love for his new best friend. He’d met many kids his age from all walks of life, but he’d never connected to any of them like he had with Adam. Not many would believe in Glendower; Gansey knew this from experience. And now, with this magic, this whole world opening up beneath their feet, and it had taken Adam only a few hours to accept it. This magic was far more tangible than the scraps of information Gansey had been feeding himself about Glendower — really, this changed everything. He only wished Adam was magical too, so they could attend Hogwarts together, but he couldn’t bring himself to be disappointed. Magic was real and Glendower was out there, somewhere, and the world was limitless. A friendship was such a simple thing to maintain in the grand scheme of things.

“You know,” Adam said, breaking Gansey’s line of thought. “You know, this isn’t so different. From what we knew before. Wizard school — Glendower.”

This was Adam’s way of promising unconditional support — he wouldn’t ghost out or call Gansey crazy like so many before him. The Glendower search had shifted from being Gansey’s only to being Gansey’s and Adam’s, together, and even though it was just Gansey with this brand of magic, it was Adam’s too. Together.

~

A couple days later, Adam’s mother came down with a minor head cold, so he was instructed to spend the beginning of his summer break staying home and caring for her while his dad went out and bought generic ibuprofen and generic Kleenex and generic chicken noodle soup. Gansey just read about Glendower from the comfort of his sunny porch, but he found himself longing for more information about Hogwarts and the Wizarding community. So when Mrs. Gansey approached him with plans to go out shopping for his school supplies, he immediately and enthusiastically agreed.

They drove downtown in Mrs. Gansey’s nice car and parked near the Leaky Cauldron, a dark tavern visible only to Gansey. (“No, _this_ way, mum...”) They walked in, and the place was filled with genuinely the weirdest looking people Gansey had ever seen. Men and women alike wore long robes, silk and linen and embroidered ones, as if they were everyday attire. Which they probably were, he supposed with a jolt. Customers at the bar drank concoctions of every color, and the from the menu he read items such as “butterbeer” and “pumpkin juice.” Posters on the wall showed moving images, similar to GIFs he’d see online, but these were on paper, which he knew to be impossible by any feat of technology.

“Hello,” Mrs. Gansey said to a bearded man wearing an apron emblazoned with the tavern’s name. Straightening her blazer, she gestured to Gansey’s Hogwarts letter. “It says here that this is the—”

“The way to Diagon Alley, of course!” the man finished for her. Now, he addressed Gansey. “What’s your name, lad?”

“Richard,” Mrs. Gansey answered for him.

“Well, Richard, I reckon you’re a new student at Hogwarts, yeah? Muggleborn, from the sound of things?”

Gansey nodded. This place…. He was lost for words.

“Well, let me show you the way. He retrieved his wand and tapped on a few of the bricks — and now there sat a door where previously there had been none. Gansey and his mum walked on through. He could only compare it to the feeling of finding oneself in Narnia for the first time.

“Welcome,” the man said, “to Diagon Alley! If you two have any questions, I’m Stan. I’d be happy to help.”

That same strangeness Gansey witnessed in The Leaky Cauldron oozed into the street, exploding in bright colors and obscure symbols and smells that Gansey swore couldn’t exist. It simply felt like pure magic there, and there was no other way to explain it. An imperfectly-shaped piece of Gansey was left behind there in muggle London, and in its place this magical alley leapt into his heart, flawlessly fitting beneath his ribs like it was meant to be there all along.

After the bees, Gansey was awarded a miracle, presumably by Owen Glendower. He didn’t know what he’d done — what he had yet to do? — to deserve a second miracle. But here it was.

“We need to buy you some robes, first.” Maybe Mrs. Gansey’s wonder had faded since her briefings all those years before, or maybe she was keeping an orderly mind because she knew her son wasn’t, or maybe nothing ever fazed her after so many years of work in global politics. But though Gansey was grateful for her focus, he just wanted to take a seat at the bench over there and just… watch. He followed after Mrs. Gansey, logging all the sights in his mind to recount to Adam at the earliest convenience.

A few hours later, laden with bags of robes and books and potions ingredients, Gansey and his mother stumbled out of Ollivander’s, his wand sycamore with a hippogriff feather core (quite a rare core, Gansey was told). Shopping for all his supplies had certainly been a confusing and tiring ordeal, but Gansey was too hyped up on adrenaline and wonder to feel the effects of exhaustion.

So they made their way with enchanted minds and fulfilled hearts to The Leaky Cauldron. And a secondhand shop — one the Ganseys never would have stepped into because they didn’t need to — just had a window display so compelling that Mrs. Gansey couldn’t wrangle her son out of approaching the shabby red door and walking on in. Which, to be fair, didn’t really need to be all that compelling to pique Richard Gansey III’s curiosity. It was something about magical artefacts and dreams and maybe some big book on necromancy. Dark stuff for an eleven year old, but anyone could tell that Gansey didn’t have ill intentions.

“Richard, don’t you think we’ve done enough shopping today?” Mrs. Gansey asked in lieu of telling him how terrified that book in his hands made her.  He nodded, set it down, tried not to think of the offputting shop owner gazing curiously at the two of them.

They retraced their steps back down the street to the tavern to the car to the muggle world to their home, and for a little while, the magic was over.


	2. FAMILY

Gansey kept replaying that night over and over in his head. He couldn't help it; he was enamored with this school he’d never been to, with this whole world that should have been from a movie. He kept reading passages from his textbooks because he just wanted to know everything, and he didn't care that the books were meant for his classes. He did have a summer assignment, however, though it felt more like play than work to him. All Muggleborn students were to purchase a copy of  _ An Introduction to British Wizarding Culture _ . He’d just finished the chapter on sports and recreation, so he took it upon himself to explain Quidditch to Adam. “It's just the most spectacular thing. They go around on broomsticks and throw these different balls around — and they have different teams for the school houses!”

Adam was just sitting beside him, eating a turkey sandwich, listening and nodding. The last thing Gansey wanted was to make Adam feel left out, but he couldn't contain his excitement. It was a force of its own. 

“Do you want to go somewhere?” Gansey asked, restless.

“Where?”

“Don’t know. The world is just so big.” He’d reached a stalemate with Glendower because he’d read all the books he could find within his reading level, so he needed  _ something  _ to concentrate on.

Adam nodded, stood. To him, the world wasn’t bigger because of all the magic, maybe because it was Gansey’s truth, not his. The world seemed bigger because of Gansey himself, and it had since that very first day with the orange Fanta and  _ A Wrinkle in Time.  _ “As long as I’m back home before dark.” 

Gansey grinned at him. He picked a direction at random and pointed. “Let’s go that way.”

They hopped on their bikes and left the park behind them, racing a little but not too much because Gansey wanted to be hyper-aware of their surroundings. There was no use in discovering a cool new place if they could never return. 

“Well, Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” Gansey said to Adam as they slowed after a while, giving their legs a breather. They were far gone from London suburbia, and rolling green hills stretched before them. Nearby, they saw barns speckled amongst the pastures and cropland, and they were sure to keep their distance. 

“I think I see a creek down there.” Gansey took off before Adam could respond, so Adam just followed, worried a little what his dad would think if he came home with wet clothes and blistering feet from biking home in damp socks. But all of that would be figured out later. If there even was a creek to splash around in. 

Once Adam caught up with Gansey, he saw that Gansey had been correct. Only instead of a shabby creek too shallow for any fish to live in like he’d expected, it was an expansive river stretching out into oblivion in one direction and fizzling out in a bed of rocks in the other. 

“It can’t be that deep,” Gansey said, though there was really no way of knowing. “It’s really shallow over there, and it couldn’t have made such a huge jump in that distance.” Which made sense, but really it was just justification to go swimming. He tore off his button down and denim shorts and shoes, down to his boxers, and jumped in. Theoretically, there could have been sharp branches or water snakes down there, and he would have been screwed, in that case. But the water was benign, so he gestured for Adam to join him.

“It’s very refreshing, Adam.” And so Adam stripped down to his worn-down boxers and dipped his big toe in the water. It wasn’t a particularly hot day in southern England, but the coolness of the river did feel good against his aching bones, Adam had to admit. In the shaded light, none of Adam’s healing bruises stood out as such; it had been a while, thank God, and they only showed upon close inspection. Adam knew these spots like the back of his hand. 

“You do know how to swim, right?” If Gansey wasn’t Gansey, Adam would have interpreted this as cruel or vexing, but he could hear the concern creeping up into Gansey’s voice. Understandable that he would have a certain fear of danger, considering the time with the bees, though Gansey seemed to be some sort of miniature adrenaline junkie disguised in expensive clothes and glasses. 

Adam nodded and lowered himself to sit on the river bank, smearing mud on the backs of his knees. He slid into the water and went all the way under to get it over with. A few seconds later he emerged, droplets clinging to his eyelashes. 

Gansey had participated in a summer league swim team when he’d lived in the States, so he took it upon himself to teach Adam the strokes. Though he hadn’t practiced in a while, Gansey could also do those fancy flip turns necessary for saving time in longer races, but the river banks weren’t steady enough for him to try them out. Adam could swim, sure, but it was that doggie paddle-breaststroke blend that would easily get one disqualified in a proper race. He a quick learner, though, easily picking up freestyle and breaststroke. Backstroke was more difficult because Adam kept veering off course, threatening to collide with the riverbank, and Gansey had never been skilled at butterfly, so it was a lost cause to instruct Adam on the particular body contortions for that one. Adam’s slim body slid through the water, muscles born from an unrelenting, everyday sort of labor. 

“I’m impressed,” Gansey said after a particularly close freestyle race they’d conducted. “You’ve never swam for a team?”   


Adam shook his head, cheeks flushed from Gansey’s approval, though he didn’t know he’d been seeking it out. “There’s a lake close to home. My parents and I used to go swimming every week in the summer.”

It was clear these events were things of the past, and Adam didn’t elaborate any further, so Gansey let the subject rest. “Do you think there are fish in this river? Or frogs?” he asked instead. 

“Probably.” Adam shrugged. He peered straight down, but he only saw his own two feet. He was about to suggest they go downriver when they heard a stranger’s voice. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” It was a boy around their age, maybe a little older. He had dark hair and, at present, wore a particularly nasty scowl. “You’re trespassing.”

Adam felt silly and flustered, but Gansey straightened his spine and waded over to the riverbank. Despite the fact that he was in just his boxers and was forced to look up at this boy, he retained his dignity and poise. Gansey had told Adam many stories about his family and his upbringing, and Adam had pinpointed the  _ otherness  _ of Gansey — the way he spoke sometimes, the designer clothes he wore, even to the park. But besides all that, he was just a normal boy around Adam, and he never seemed like he would fit in with his parents. Now, however, Adam saw it. He was built with intention and knew what to say, and it made Adam feel young and clumsy next to him. 

“I’m very sorry —  we were unaware. We saw your barns down the hill, but we didn’t know your property extended to this river. We’ll be going now.”

They heard a thump, then, “Declan!” A younger boy ran up, broomstick in hand. His hair was lighter than the first one’s, and messier.  “Come on! I asked dad and Ronan and they said we could play but you have to join so it’ll be two on two!”

“ _ Alright,  _ Matthew. I’ll be there in a moment,” the first boy, Declan, said, his tone annoyed but his eyes soft. This seemed to placate Matthew, and he ran off, gone just as quickly as he’d come.

Declan turned back to Adam and Gansey now, a lecture on the tip of his tongue, but after seeing his younger brother, he seemed to deflate from the pedestal he placed himself upon. “Just — don’t come back or —” 

Gansey was, in general, a polite boy, but right now, his curiosity was spiked up and agitated. It wouldn’t rest until it got answers. “I’m sorry, but what was your brother there doing with that broomstick? It seems awfully pointless to sweep up the forest,” he interrupted. 

“I don’t know,” Declan said forcefully, but he wasn’t an excellent liar. His body language gave it away. “I’ll find out when _ you are gone _ and I can go back to the house.”

“He said something about  _ playing _ ,” Gansey continued, sure now that his instincts were correct. “Was your brother going to play Quidditch?”

Declan regarded Gansey slowly, in a whole new light. “What do you know of Quidditch?” he asked in a pointed tone. 

Gansey stood up even straighter. “I’m a wizard.”

“And you?” 

“I’m… not.” Adam looked down. 

“But you can trust him!” Gansey interjected. 

“Yeah, sure,” Declan muttered quietly. Then, aloud to Gansey, “What’s your name?”

“Gansey.”

Declan raised his eyebrows. “Well,  _ Gansey _ , I guess I’ll be seeing you at Hogwarts in September.” With that, he turned on his heel and left, taking the same path Matthew had taken a few minutes earlier. It was Gansey and Adam’s cue to leave as well, so they got up out of the water and stood in the sun for a few minutes to dry off. 

Once they were sufficiently dried and clothed, Gansey asked, “Do you think they’re still playing their game of Quidditch?” Without waiting for a reply from Adam, he continued, “We should go watch.”

“If they find us and get upset,” Adam reasoned, “couldn’t they, I don’t know, turn our noses into pig snouts or make us go blind or something?”

“Theoretically,” Gansey said, and with that, he began to follow the trail that the two brothers had taken earlier. 

~

Adam felt a certain pull to this place. It didn’t look any different from the nature by his family’s double-wide, but it felt alien. He didn’t know why, or how, or if Gansey noticed the distinction as well. Maybe Gansey wasn’t a good judge, though, since he felt connected to the strangest of things. 

For the first time, Adam truly understood Gansey’s excited fascination towards magic, because he could feel it here. Adam wasn’t really surprised when the younger brother, Matthew, arrived to the river holding a broomstick for flying. Magic. His family had never been religious, so this was new and weird, but there was no other explanation for a place like this, at least not in Adam’s vocabulary. 

When he and Gansey found themselves at an opening in the forest, they crouched down behind tree cover and watched. The Quidditch set up was impressive for a one-family home, though Adam obviously didn’t know enough about their lifestyle to make such assumptions. Tall hoops were stuck into the ground for goalposts, and a large box of variously sized and shaped balls sat on the ground near Adam. It smelled like mildew. 

On broomsticks high above Adam and Gansey, Declan and Matthew chased each other for a strange ball. It was the size of a bowling ball, but must’ve been much lighter, and had three large dimples. Nearby, a man maybe a few years younger than Adam’s father watched, waiting to pounce. He held something akin to a baseball bat, and Adam had to wonder if this Quidditch was just an airborne version of America’s favorite sport. Then there was the last boy. He must’ve been the Ronan that Matthew had mentioned. His hair was curlier than Declan’s and darker than Matthew’s, and he also held onto a baseball bat. 

By then, Adam’s neck was hurting from craning upwards, and once glance to Gansey told him that his friend felt to too. He was just about to suggest that they leave, though he really didn’t want to, when a woman emerged from the faded blue house adjacent to the field carrying glasses of water. “Who’s winning?” she called. It was Ronan and Declan at the moment, and whichever team held the victory would compete one-on-one the next day. Ronan made some snarky comment on how he was glad he wasn’t playing against her, otherwise he’d be losing, and Adam’s chest felt like it was on fire. It all reminded him of the swimming trips his family had stopped going on. 

They kept watching. Adam didn’t know what he’d do if they were caught out, but Gansey’s expression made it all worth it. He seemed to be drinking in every last detail, and if he didn’t need to keep quiet, Adam knew he’d be taking notes in that journal of his. 

Soon, the game ended, and Declan took an easy dive down to the ground. Adam realized he was heading for the box so he could stow away the Quidditch ball, and he dove around a tree so as to block Declan’s view. Instantly he was aware of his mistake, because Declan turned towards the noise. Adam was successfully out of sight, but Gansey was still watching the rest of the family. So, naturally, Declan saw Gansey, and the whole thing was over. 

“Excuse me? I thought I told you to get lost, assholes?”

“Declan, what’s going on?” the woman called. 

“Nothing, mom, I just—” Declan didn’t have time for an excuse because she was walking right on over. 

“Who are these young men?”

“Vagrants.”

Gansey did that weird unnerving thing again, where he straightened his back and sounded seven years older than he was. “I’m ever so sorry, Mrs…”

“Lynch,” she provided. “But call me Aurora.”

“Aurora.” Gansey smiled. “I got my Hogwarts letter recently, and my parents are both Muggles, but my mother took me shopping along Diagon Alley. Adam and I accidently stumbled upon your family’s acreage. We were just curious. I have a book explaining the basics of the magical community, so I read a little about Quidditch, but I was quite confused about the mechanics of it. I meant no harm.”

Aurora’s eyes softened. “Why don’t you stay for lunch? I’m not very skilled in the way of divination, but I knew there was a reason I made extra sandwiches today.”

~

“You have a very nice property,” Adam overheard Gansey tell Aurora. He was on the other side of the open door setting the table on the porch while Adam and Mr. Lynch, who had introduced himself as Niall, fetched the drinks from the refrigerator. 

“Thank you,” Aurora said, vibrant and proud. “Niall and I named it the Barns when we initially moved here, out of convenience. But as the kids started growing up here, we began to call it Cabeswater. It’s a magical name for a magical place.” She chuckled like there was a story behind it, and Adam ached. 

Niall had attempted at small talk. He was quite a jovial man, and so he put up no pretenses around Adam and Gansey, perfect strangers that they were. But now Adam was quiet. It was all so much to take in. Then he said, “I’m not a wizard like Gansey is.” He wasn’t ashamed, not really, and he didn’t say it as such. He hadn’t known Gansey long enough to recalibrate his idea of normal to include a necromancy-practicing Welsh king and a magical society spanning the better part of Europe and probably the whole world. But he didn’t want to take credit where it wasn’t due. He wasn’t magical, and for some reason it felt urgent to let that be known to this kind family.

“That doesn’t make you lesser,” Niall mused, and Adam had the sense that his soul was being examined from the inside out. “I grew up with it, Aurora grew up with it, and our sons have grown up with it. It is our lives, and sometimes we think nothing of it because it’s all we’ve known. But it is special, so if you do not have the ability to wield it, you are lucky to witness it through those you care about.” 

Adam understood what Niall was getting at, and he nodded, but he couldn’t stop the other thoughts from popping up. Like how it figured that the parts of Adam that were special and otherworldly were only that way because of Gansey. He didn’t want to say that, so he just dropped the subject and carried the cooler of ice outside to the patio. 

Lunch was sandwiches filled with all sorts of weird spectacular vegetables that shouldn't have existed. The best yellow squash Adam had ever tried, arugula that had been picked three weeks previous but refused to wilt, sundried tomatoes that were grown that way right off the vine. The bread was freckled with poppyseeds and the color of Adam’s skin, sunkissed from his time outdoors. Everything the Parrishes ate was simple and ordinary and leaned towards the bland. Adam had never tasted anything so good. 

~

Ronan was going to start his first year at Hogwarts in the fall, but despite having grown up adjacent to London’s Wizarding community, he didn’t know too many of his future classmates. He knew lots of adults — his parents’ farmer colleagues, the guys from the Ministry of Magic who came for tea on the third Wednesday of every month when they picked up his dad’s newly-dreamed magical artifacts. He knew a few kids around his age, but most of the time, his brothers were his playmates. Ever since he’d gone off to school last year, Declan had tried to seem older than he was, but Matthew, who still had a few years left to go, was still pure and fun. 

As this Gansey boy recounted the story of his first and only Diagon Alley visit, Ronan wondered, not for the first time, what it must be like to enter into this world. It was strange. Once, his parents had tried to set up a friendship between Ronan and a Muggle neighbor his age. They were attempting to show their sons that Muggles were just the same as wizards where it counted, but it failed spectacularly. The boy’s parents were creeped out by the Lynchs’ apparent eccentricity, so Ronan hadn’t hung out with that Evan guy in years. 

He also wondered what Adam, who sat between Gansey and his mother, thought of all this. He mostly stayed quiet, thoughtfully chomping on his sandwich and chips, observing. Gansey wasn’t shy with his life story, but Ronan wanted more information on Adam. This boy was different, and it wasn’t because he didn’t have magic. Although… even that seemed unreliable. Ronan had spent a considerable amount of time around diviners when he was younger, and Adam just had a magical aura, or so those ladies would have believed. But he couldn’t form words to his questions, so Ronan turned his attention back to the conversation at hand.

“Traditionally, Quidditch is played with seven players on each team,” his father directed at Gansey. Ronan wondered what his Christian name was. “Three chasers for offense, two beaters for defense, a keeper — that’s the goalie — and the seeker. Seekers search for a small, nearly imperceptible flying ball. When they catch it, they end the game. What you saw earlier was a fragmented pickup version with a chaser and a beater.”

Gansey nodded eagerly as Niall went into some of the finer details of the game. When he got to the famous championship between Ireland and Bulgaria, Ronan started tuning out. Matthew, on the other hand, grew a few inches in his seat. He was obsessed with statistics of historical games, so naturally Ronan now knew enough about this one from proximity that he could’ve been an attendee. Ronan just curled into himself and waited for the conversation to turn towards broomsticks, which had to be a point of interest for Gansey. That was Ronan’s favorite part of Quidditch, and Niall had promised he would be allowed to pick out a brand-new broom if he ever decided to join the school team. Declan was now old enough, but for him it was nothing more than a passing hobby. Ronan was more serious about it, and he couldn’t wait for that day.


	3. ENCHANTMENT

Adam wasn’t sure how Gansey had come into possession of his landline phone number. Knowing Gansey, he’d probably looked it up in the phone book. Adam wanted to feel like his privacy had been violated, but it didn’t matter because either way, he had called during a rather tense — so, normal — Parrish Family Dinner. Adam’s dad had just been griping about one of the neighbors, punctuating his thoughts with gulps of his beer, when the phone interrupted his tirade. Robert picked it up, and when Gansey asked for Adam, he told his son with dagger eyes that “I don’t pay good money for this line for social calls,” but he handed it off anyways. 

“Gansey? What is it?” Adam was weary, but that had more to do with his location and less to do with whatever crazy idea that was probably about to spew out of Gansey’s mouth. 

“Listen, listen. Mother has a sudden business trip, and the whole family’s going. It’s some economic forum in Athens. I’ll bring back pictures and maybe some local food. It’s just for the weekend, so I should be back by Monday.”

“Alright. Well, have fun.”

“You remember how to get to the Barns?”

“Of course I do, Gansey. I’ve been there just as many times as you have.” They had been going every day now, replacing their Glendower research sessions at the park with more hands-on informational sessions on the wizarding world. Adam knew Gansey just wanted to make sure everything ran smoothly in his absence, but he often forgot that he wasn’t the crucial cog in the machine anymore. The Lynches far surpassed Gansey’s magical knowledge, for one, and Adam contributed a great deal to the task of reconciling the magical accounts of the wizarding world and the Welsh mythos, both of which Gansey was devoted to, and which seemed to be constantly at odds with each other. But Gansey was the heart of the mission, and Adam had to remind himself that Gansey wasn’t trying to be annoying. He was just a product of his upbringing, just as Adam was, and just as the Lynch brothers were. 

“Okay, well, report back any findings to me on Monday. I’ll see you then!” Gansey certainly was strange, but that only drew Adam in closer. Lately, once the two of them had started frequenting the Lynch residence, all the pieces of the puzzle started coming together. Adam didn’t know about Glendower, but this all  _ felt  _ right, so they had to be stepping in the right direction. 

~

The journey to the Barns felt longer without Gansey. Adam tried to see it through Gansey’s eyes, the wonder of their town, but it only reminded him of everything he didn’t have. At the very least, he could appreciate the fact that this wasn’t the doublewide. That was something. 

Although he still didn’t feel real, Ronan Lynch was friendly. That day, he took Adam around the forest, introducing him to vegetation, both wild and planted, that had magical qualities. Adam didn’t understand why Ronan bothered with it since he was just a muggle, but then, he felt like Ronan knew something he didn’t. 

Ronan’s favorite was the shrivelfig, but, as he explained, they weren’t native to England, so their trees were planted decidedly behind a big grey shed that was used to store Niall’s artefacts. As Ronan led the way from the house, Adam asked, “So, what’s Hogwarts like?”

“You know about the houses?”

“Yeah. Which one do you think you’ll get?”

“Well, mom’s a Hufflepuff and dad’s a Slytherin, and so is Declan. But I don’t know. I don’t feel like I’d fit into any of them. What about you?” Before Adam could protest, he added, “You know, if you were.”

Adam looked down at the twigs beneath his feet, but his voice was clear. “I would have to be Ravenclaw. I have the best grades in my class; it’s the only thing I’m good at."

Ronan felt like the thing he was best at was something he had no control over, but he didn’t say that. “Declan said there are these moving staircases that can make you late to class, and ghosts that hang around the castle. The Slytherin common room is in the dungeons, and it was built under the  

“C’mon. We’re here.”

In front of the two boys sat a small circle of trees with a clearing in the middle barely big enough for the two of them. Ronan stepped inside and Adam followed. Adam thought he would have claustrophobia, because it was so prevalent at home, but instead he felt cozy. He didn’t know if it was the magic of the Barns or the company. Suddenly everything sounded louder, more pressing, but he didn’t mind. Ronan must’ve felt it too, because he was whispering instead of speaking at full volume. 

“These trees are native to Ethiopia, but mom grows them for their medicinal properties. It’s powerful. That’s why they have that glow. If you come out here at the right time of day, it’s like there’s purple light all around you.”

The noon sun was climbing higher and higher, and even though the purple light was faint, Adam could feel it inside him. He didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t have to say anything, because just then, a perfectly-ripe fig dropped from one of the trees, threatening to hit the two of them. And it would have, if Adam hadn’t caught it first. It hadn’t been falling slowly; rather, just the opposite. But time seemed to slow as Adam watched its decent, and it landed in his hand as easily as a ball in a simple game of catch.

Adam didn’t really understand what had happened, but the fall seemed too perfectly-timed for chance, and he was pretty sure Ronan hadn’t tried to attack him with fruit. Ronan only raised his eyebrows. 

“When’s your birthday?”

“Next week. Why?” 

Ronan shrugged. “I can show you my dad’s artefacts, if you want.” 

Thrown by the non-sequitur, Adam squeaked out an awkward response. He was unsure what Ronan was playing at, but he’d follow along.

The door to the shed was squeaky even though it was well-used. Adam wondered if wizards had WD-40. Ronan let Adam step inside first, and the door shut loudly behind them. 

“ _ Lumos _ ,” Ronan said, brandishing a wand from one of the many pockets in his cargo pants. 

“I thought you can’t use magic outside of Hogwarts until you turn seventeen. That’s what Gansey said.”

Ronan plastered on a mischevious grin, one suited for an illegal activity, say, or at least something more reckless than their day of tame educational adventure. “That really only starts once you get to Hogwarts, otherwise the Ministry’d be arresting children. Kids’ magic comes out in random bursts, and it’s unfocused until they’re old enough to go to school. I only know really basic spells my parents taught me.” 

Maybe the shed wasn’t really as big as the doublewide, but it certainly felt that way. Shelves and cabinets lined the walls to add some semblance of organization, but it was all illusion. Objects of various sizes overflowed from every little space imaginable. Adam looked around with wide eyes. He picked up a small toy car, similar to one he’d once bought, but this one played music through the wheels. When he had imagined Niall’s magical artefacts, he’d thought of the stuff Gansey had described from Diagon Alley. Not… this. 

“Not all of this goes to the Ministry,” Ronan said. “Some of it is mine.”

Adam placed the toy right where he’d found it and wandered around, idly picking up objects to determine their magical qualities and then setting them down again to examine the next. He was mesmerized; never before, in the month or so of constantly hanging around wondrous people like Gansey and the Lynches, had he seen magic so tangibly manifested, and, well, so real. “Gansey is going to have a field day with this.”

Ronan smiled, wide like always but a bit shy. “I'll show him when he gets back. But I didn't want to wait to show you. I thought you’d like it.”

It was sweet, and more than Adam expected. The brothers Lynch were always jostling and racing and smirking with their words, even around Adam and Gansey. Adam was sure they were sweet and affectionate towards one another—they just never were around him, and now, it was as if Adam was privy to some sort of secret. 

“Why me?”

“Gansey’s been all over the world. I bet he’s seen at least half of the seven wonders. I just thought you would appreciate this stuff more.”

Adam understood Ronan’s line of reasoning. Gansey already had his basic needs met, so he could treat things like this with analysis and apply historical background. For Adam, the rarest experience was also the simplest: just to be, without any pretenses. Here, Ronan allowed him that. 

“Besides,” Ronan added, eyes bright with humor. “I have a hunch about you.” 

“What do you mean?”

“If I’m right, I’ll let you know.”

Adam felt a little like he was unstable in his heart, and he didn’t want to expend the energy to analyze it, so he turned his attention to a little tidbit, an inconsistency, tugging at his mind. “So, if you only give some of the stuff in here to the Ministry of Magic, why do you enchant the rest of it? Just for kicks?”

Ronan blinked. “It’s not enchantment. I’m not supposed to talk about it. Dad and I have this ability—” He hesitated. “I  _ was  _ going to tell you. I was waiting until Gansey came back — but let me show you.”

He sat down on the floor and rested his back against a cabinet. A drawer knob protruded into his side, and to Adam it didn’t look comfortable, but Ronan seemed perfectly at ease. “Mum taught me to meditate. If I can lower my heartrate enough, I can fall asleep anywhere.” Adam must’ve looked confused, because Ronan added, “it’ll make sense soon. Promise.”

As Ronan forced himself to sleep, Adam attempted to keep busy. Watching Ronan rest felt odd… too intimate, brotherly. Adam imagined being so close to someone as to render this situation comfortable, but it was in vain, so he settled for more exploration. What he found only baffled him further. Stuffed into a rather full file cabinet were drawings of Cabeswater, vivid in color and detail and fantasy. None of them were signed, but they were familiar, like a dream buried and half-forgotten. In a few of the drawings, the trees of the forest conversed in a strange language. From his science classes, he identified it as Latin, but it that were the case, it was a Latin from a parallel universe to this. 

Soon, Ronan awoke, and he groaned as he stretched the sleep out of his body. With a withering glance, Adam asked, “What does taking a nap have to do with your magic?”

Instead of answering, Ronan revealed what he was clutching in his hand: a deck of tarot cards. There were many places in the shed where Ronan could have found them, but he  _ had  _ been sleeping, after all, so where could they have come from except his mind?  It all clicked together at once like a destiny revealing itself.

“You can conjure things in your head,” Adam said, curiously yet with certainty, as if it were a quiz he was being graded on. “In your dreams.”

Ronan nodded, and he looked like he wanted to say something, but Adam beat him to it.

“Why tarot cards?”

Ronan’s expression was unreadable. “They reminded me of your aura.” He cleared his throat. “Does the tarot practice mean anything to you?”

Years before, a pair of pagans had rented a trailer nearby the Parrish’s as a cheap, temporary fix on their search for more permanent housing. The two women had spoken clearly and openly of the powerful predictive qualities tarot cards had, amongst other aspects of their spirituality, and one of them had even offered to give Adam a reading. Nevertheless, Adam’s parents had forbidden him from seeing the women; the fact that they were lesbians, Adam realized in hindsight, probably didn’t help. So Adam knew of the supposed power in the cards, and with all of his current magical knowledge, he was now inclined to trust their assertions. 

But that was only one small experience, and Adam had never actually seen the women’s deck. “Not really.” And then, “Do you know how to give a reading?”

“I know the procedure. But only trained diviners can give valid readings.”

“But… if every wizard has magic, why does it matter?”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Going by that logic, every wizard should be able to pull things from their dreams. But here —” He handed the cards to Adam. “Why don’t you take a stab at it?"

Ignoring Ronan, Adam flipped through the cards. He wasn’t a wizard, so they were just like ordinary playing cards, just with cooler artwork. Actually… the cards were done in the same drawing style as the pictures of Cabeswater Adam had been examining minutes before, but Adam told himself that wasn’t unusual. They both came from Ronan’s dreams, so it probably wasn’t uncanny. 

There were some unsettling cards in the deck. “Death?”

Ronan grinned at Adam’s discomfort. “Not necessarily, like, dying. It can mean a transformation of some sort. All of the cards are symbolic.”

Adam nodded, satisfied with the explanation, and continued to look through the cards. The last one read “the magician,” but Adam didn’t even have time to process this. The very second he gripped the card between his first two fingers, a flash of green choked his mind, his senses. The forest he was in looked eerily similar to the one encircling the Barns, but something was different, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. The last image he saw was of hooves, but he had the strangest feeling they didn’t belong to any horses. 

Ronan snapped his fingers in front of Adam’s face, and Adam returned to the shed, to Ronan’s company. “What did you see?” Ronan asked with an urgent seriousness he had yet to show Adam.

Adam explained the… vision? Dream? He didn’t know what to call it, but the images were still branded beneath his eyelids. It had felt so  _ real _ , and as far as Ronan could discern, it was. 

“What do you think it means?”

“What you described… that’s where I go when I dream. That’s how Cabeswater got its name.” Ronan’s eyes flickered to the cards, then to the cabinet that held his dreamed drawings. “Oh, wow,” he breathed. “It’s the only explanation. I think you're a wizard, Adam.”


	4. HOME

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for child/domestic abuse! The first scene of this chapter deals with the Parrish's family dynamic, so please proceed with caution.

It had hurt before, pretty badly, but never like this. He knew it was coming — if Ronan had been right, and that letter came, Robert’s reaction was not going to be pretty. His rage was multifaceted: red as in the flush of his cheeks, oozy purple as in the stain on his son’s arms and chest. Adam took it, because he was too small to fight back, and besides, what was the point of doing so?

But Adam had also been expecting something — satisfaction, maybe — in the confirmation of his powers, enough to get him through. Now, he knew the Lynches had played him for a fool. Wizard or not, this was his life, and though Hogwarts seemed to be an attractive escape, a world full of wonder, it would never be his.

He was so close. If only the owl hadn’t delivered the letter during Mr. Parrish’s nightly whisky. If only…

Adam knew Gansey was back in town because Gansey had called, and then called again when Adam didn’t show up at the Barns. Gansey and the Lynches didn’t know where he lived, and that was for the better, because the last thing Adam wanted was to endanger his friends. He allowed himself to ruminate on that for a moment: why did he feel his bond with Gansey and Ronan was stronger than that with his school friends, despite only having known them a little while? Was it the magic? Was it because, unlike his classmates, Gansey and Ronan knew nothing of Adam’s family?

“Did you think you would get away with this prank?” Robert shook his head. “Hogwarts,” he mumbled. “Who the fuck comes up with shit like that? Are you even more of a freak than I thought you were?”

In his periphery, Adam watched his mother put up some water on the stove and rip open a box of spaghetti. He concentrated on her face, her hands, to distract him from the leathery hard hands before him. The hands which were a separate entity from his father, who just wanted to get by on his joke of a salary without his son making his life any more difficult. Those hands belonged to a monster, but they were not his father’s. The pot of water on the stove was already boiling — where did the time go? — and she was leaning over, about to pour in the noodles. But she had left the heat too high, and it was about to boil up, over, onto her. It would have been but a minor burn, but —

“Fucking shit!” Adam’s mum jumped away from the stove, then back towards it from the side to turn the heat down. Clutching her arm, she peered into the pot. “It’s…  red?”

“What?”

The water, Robert! Adam, go grab me a bandaid, and be quick about it, alright?.”

Adam ran off, and when he was busy climbing to the medicine cabinet that was out of his reach, he overheard his parents’ frantic, loud whispers. “Give me that,” his mother said contemptuously, and Adam heard the faint rustle of paper.

“Robert, look at the stove. Whatever’s in there is still boiling, and it’s on low! It’s some sort of acid in there. Adam would know — he’s great at science. But whatever’s in there is _not_ the water I boiled for the pasta.”

Adam considered taking a couple of bandaids for himself, but he knew they would do little to heal the bruises, and he would get yelled at if he wasted their supply. He knew his mother was waiting on him, so he tried to return as quickly as he could, but his parents were still fighting in the trailer’s main room. He looked on from behind the door, waiting for his father to storm out as usual so he could help his mum.

“You expect me to believe my son is a fucking…” Robert looked down at the wrinkled Hogwarts letter. He couldn’t say the word.

“No, he got up and switched the water with acid between punches from you.” And Robert backslapped her across the cheek.

When Robert finally stormed out — yelling “happy _fucking_ birthday!” to the air — Adam almost wished the Parrishs had a car so that his father could go drunkenly kill himself in it. But he pushed that down. Robert was only like this when he was drunk, Adam reminded himself. He was a victim of addiction, sick, and so Adam and his mum had a duty to protect him. Or so he told himself — the details got fuzzy. Was it addiction or just recreation?

Sheepish and hesitating, Adam returned to his mum and patched up the angry red mark on her wrist. He kissed her cheek to sooth the marks there, and to tell her he was there for her. Adam knew she loved Robert more than him — because why else would she stay? Why else would she let Adam stay?  — but it was a moving gesture.

“Did you do it?” It came out as but a whisper.

Adam could feel his own energy radiating from the kitchenette. He thought about what Ronan said about his aura after he dreamed the tarot cards. “Not on purpose.” He looked her in the eyes. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just wanted him to stop.” And he didn’t want to cry, but with the guilt gnawing his throat raw, he couldn’t help a few tears from escaping.

“You go,” his mum said, waving the Hogwarts letter in the air.

“But… dad.”

“ — will appreciate not having to provide for you.”

Adam suspected she just wanted to get rid of him, same as his dad, but he nodded.

“I’ll pay your fees until you’re old enough to get a job.”

Adam nodded, and thanked her. He didn’t know what else to do or say, and he didn’t know when his dad would return, so he just departed to his room. There was, after all, so much to think about.

~

Adam didn’t always trust Gansey’s perception of things, places. They were both caught in the bubbles of their disparate lives, and when they met in the middle, created their own bubble at the Barns with Ronan, some of that bled through. But his description of Diagon Alley was spot-on. It was a place of magic, excitement, and terrific ice cream.

Adam, Gansey, Ronan, and Aurora sat around a wrought iron table outside Flourish and Blott’s on a hot day in mid July, treating themselves to a mid-day snack after finishing their shopping. Of course, Gansey had already purchased his supplies, so in theory he came to assist, but in practice he merely pointed out cool shit to his friends. Declan had run off with one of his school friends, a Hufflepuff named Ashley whom he was smitten with, and he had half an hour before he was due back.

Adam had been so eager to get out of the house today, so unwilling to cross paths with his father, that he had skipped breakfast, and, starving, he had scarfed down his raspberry-chocolate swirl quickly. As everyone else savored the last bites of their waffle cones, Adam twirled his new wand in his hand. It had been the most expensive item on the list, and it cost more than most things he owned. But his mother had come up with a payment plan they were to share, so he didn’t need to worry about the money for a few years, as long as he was not reckless with it. The wand was the color of his sandy hair, filled inside with dragon heartstring, which was bizarre to even fathom.

Someone called out, “No way. Is that Ronan Lynch?” and the whole table turned to the voice, which came from a small, spritely girl with dark hair and bright clothes. Ronan, who had been grinning all day in sheer excitement for his time to come at Hogwarts, grinned even wider and scooped up the girl in a tight bear hug.  

When Ronan released the girl, she introduced herself as Blue. Gansey’s eyes danced bright like her magenta leggings; Adam had the most distinct feeling that they would be seeing a lot of this Blue. She was loud and animated, and Adam instantly liked her.

“Why are you here? You’re not going to Hogwarts, are you?” Ronan asked, his brow furrowing.

Blue reached into a large tote bag and pulled out a wand, showing Ronan with the pride of one who was displaying a first place trophy. “They all said my powers would come through. I didn't want to believe them.”

“I wonder where they might have come up with that idea,” Ronan started, but Blue rolled her eyes.

“The power of divination is nothing compared to _my_ stubborn will.” To emphasize her point, she stuck her hands on her hips. “Even when I was wrong.”

Adam remembered his first time at the Barns with Gansey, how alien it had all seemed. He wished he could trade stories with Blue, because in her he saw himself, though he had only met her five minutes prior.

As Blue explained to Adam and Gansey how she and Ronan had met — “the world is small when you’re from Wizarding families generations deep in the local area” — Aurora chatted merrily with another woman who looked how Adam would imagine Blue would look in thirty years. Her long straight hair was sheathed in a gilded clip at the nape of her neck, and she appeared to have an air of ageless wisdom about her. “Tell me, Maura. How have you been?” Aurora asked, pulling the woman off to the side so they could catch up and gossip about their children. Adam’s mum and dad never talked like that with the parents of _his_ school friends.

“Sometime during the first week of school,” Blue announced, “I’ll need to find Albus Dumbledore’s portrait. I’ve always wanted to see it, but I never thought I’d be able to.”

“Albus Dumbledore?” Gansey asked, flipping through the pages of his journal. “He was the headmaster at Hogwarts during Harry Potter’s time, right?”

Blue nodded. “ _And_ he was a member of the Order of the Phoenix _and_ he was skilled in legilimency and occlumency _and_ he played a crucial part in destroying Voldemort.”

Adam had heard these names in passing, but, in general, he was lost. He wasn’t planning on asking for further clarification, but Gansey gave it anyway. “Harry Potter — born 1980 — defeated Voldemort, an evil wizard who once attended Hogwarts, in 1998.” Gansey pointed to some notes scrawled in the journal. “All of this, in its simplified version, is in that Muggleborn basics book I need to lend you. Anyway, it all started with this prophecy —”

Blue interrupted him, providing for Adam an abbreviated version of the historical events Gansey was surely going to drag out. “And now,” she finished, “Hermione Granger is our Minister of Magic. She’s the best.”

Adam had nodded all throughout, but all he could think about was how probably all of the muggle history he had been taught was incorrect — or, at the very least, an incomplete retelling. Blue had made it clear that the Muggleborn existence was once a frail thing, and he didn’t know if he should feel some sort of way about his own identity as Muggleborn. He knew he would still be acclimating to reality as a wizard for months to come.

“What I’d love to learn,” Gansey said, as if _everything_ wasn’t an appropriate answer, “is how magical society began. As far as I know, the use of magic used to be tied to old religions practiced in Britain before Christianity came. How did that translate?”

“What he means by that is that he’s obsessed with Glendower, who’s this old Welsh king, and he wants to know how _Glendower_ translates to modern magic,” Adam interjected.

“Not everything I do is about Glendower,” Gansey protested, and Ronan found that so absurd that he couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. Adam didn’t want to offend Gansey too much, so he suppressed his giggles, but he tended to agree with Ronan. The conversation started winding down from there — everyone was, after all, tired from the day of shopping. Adam knew he would need to leave soon in order to return home before his curfew.

Fom behind Adam and Gansey, Maura caught Blue’s eyes and walked over to her daughter. “Blue, it’s time to go now. Calla wanted you home early so you could help her prep for a reading we’ve got tomorrow.”

Blue sighed. “Mom, these are Ronan’s friends, Adam and Gansey.”

“It’s nice to meet you both.” She smiled warmly, but something was off in her eyes. “How did you meet?”

Both Ronan and Adam expected Gansey to tell the story the long way around, Glendower and trespassing and magic discoveries and all, but he simply told her, “Destiny.”

Maura laughed at that. “Well, I know a thing or two about that.” She glanced at Blue, “Ready to go? 

Blue said her goodbyes and they were off. As the rest of the group waited around for Declan, who was late, to arrive, Adam turned inwards. Ronan had once mentioned the psychics he spent his early childhood around, but at the time, Adam thought nothing of it. He had never given too much thought to destiny, but the pre-magic Adam had faith in only the random unfairness of the world and his father’s bloody knuckles. Already, things were changing. Ronan hadn’t been able to explain why Adam had reacted so strongly to the tarot deck, and though Ronan had suggested that his father might know, the thought of discussing such matters with Niall sent an uncomfortable chill down Adam’s spine. Only in time would he decide if it was fate that brought him to a family of diviners. But, for the first time, he felt like he had the time.


End file.
